


Breathe Deep And Slow

by chorus



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-02-20
Updated: 2013-02-20
Packaged: 2017-11-29 23:33:34
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 823
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/692808
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/chorus/pseuds/chorus
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The beginning of Sterek?  Sheriff Stilinski is shot.  Story inspired by "Sterek In Bed" artwork from KinderCollective:<br/>http://kindercollective.deviantart.com/art/Sterek-in-Bed-339428077</p>
            </blockquote>





	Breathe Deep And Slow

Moonlight bathed the room in a blue-white light, shining directly on the two sleeping men. Derek, his muscular body clad in jeans and a t-shirt, had a protective arm over Stiles, who was sleeping on his stomach. It was a warm night, and the blanket had almost been pushed off, leaving Stiles covered with just his boxer shorts. Occasionally Stiles would snuffle, and Derek would instinctively tighten his hold.

It had been a rough day for Stiles: he had been called out of class to be told that his dad, who was the sheriff, had been shot, and was now at the hospital in surgery. Racing out of the office, Stiles stopped just long enough to grab his best friend Scott. At the hospital they had to wait, Scott with his head in his hands, Stiles pacing the floor in front of him.

Both were surprised when Derek came in and asked about the sheriff. Stiles and Derek really couldn't be called friends, they just tolerated each other. Things had softened a bit after Stiles saved Derek's life one time, and soon after Derek had returned the favor. Lifesaving was just part of many things Stiles found himself involved in because Derek, like Scott, was a werewolf.

Scott challenged Derek's concern, asking if he was responsible for the shooting. Scott didn't trust Derek, wasn't even sure if he liked him. Derek explained that he was working with the sheriff to stop the killings, whether from werewolves, werewolf hunters, reincarnated Alpha wolves, whatever. Sheriff Stilinski was less concerned over who was what, more concerned about stopping the pile of bodies from getting bigger.

A nurse came in and told them that the sheriff was out of surgery and was going to be fine, then told Stiles he could see him soon. Stiles said he needed to go to the bathroom and followed the nurse out of the room. Scott said he needed to go meet his mom, and after giving Derek a very guarded look, left as well. Derek paid no attention to Scott leaving, his heightened senses were trained on Stiles.

Derek headed for the bathroom, where he found Stiles in a stall trying very hard not to lose control. Telling him to breathe deep and slow, Derek gently massaged his shoulders. After a few minutes and a couple of false starts, Stiles pulled himself together and faced Derek. “Thanks.” he said, his eyes full of pain.

After visiting his dad, Stiles headed out, and motioned Derek to join him. They stopped for some fast food and went to Stiles' house. No sooner had the sacks of food been dropped on the table than Stiles threw his head back and cried out in pain and anguish. Derek pulled the young man into a hug, letting the tears fall on his leather jacket while whispering calmly that it was alright. Gradually Stiles' tears subsided, and he wriggled out of Derek's arms.

“I'm going to bed,” he said, his voice flat and hollow. When Derek started to leave, Stiles took his hand. “No, please, I can't bear the thought of being alone tonight.” Despite the pain in Stiles' eyes, Derek was surprised by the request, as he believed himself to be the last person Stiles would want around. He was in for another shock: when he said he'd sleep on the couch, Stiles squeezed his hand. “Please,” he whispered, his lip trembling, his eyes pleading. Surprise turned into astonishment as Derek followed Stiles upstairs.

In short order Stiles stripped to his boxers, revealing his lean body and pale skin, and fell face-down on the bed. Derek, not really sure of anything at this point, kicked off his shoes, took off his jacket and shirt and eased himself down. Stiles buried his head in Derek's chest as they wrapped their arms around each other. “You understand,” whispered Stiles, referring to Derek's losing most of his family in a house fire, and later his sister being murdered. Derek was essentially alone in the world.

“Yes, I do,” Derek replied, remembering that Stiles was an only child whose mother had died a few years ago. His father was all he had left. Stiles made a few gasping sounds like he might start crying again. Derek tightened his hold, until Stiles was calm. Then Derek did something that surprised even himself: he kissed Stiles on the forehead. Stiles relaxed and slowly let sleep overtake him. Derek felt a strange calm as he realized the meaning of what he had done.

Derek loved Stiles. On what level remained to be seen, and there was the question of whether Stiles loved Derek. It was enough for now, though, that Stiles felt safe with him, trusted him, was willing to bare his soul in front of him. He felt simultaneously awed and happy.

“You are so special,” he whispered into Stiles' ear. Derek was still smiling as he drifted off to sleep.


End file.
